100 One-Shots
by micah-l-lucas
Summary: A collection of one-shots from 100 prompts about this couple. Abandoned.
1. Colors

Funny how colors seem different down here. On the Ark, colors were just colors. The steel gray of the walls and floors, the faded, dull clothes passed down from generation to generation. The sky is always dark, the stars always somewhat visible in the distance. On the Ground, colors are everything. The minute they stepped out into the light, the pale blue sky was visible, stretching for miles and miles in every direction. It's unbelievable how many colors the sky can hold. Changing from hour to hour, darkening; stormy gray in the rain, violet and baby blue in the final moments of the setting sun, to the pale blue-green with the first morning light. All the shades of blue in the sky, and he still couldn't find the right one to describe the color of her eyes.

After studying them for a while, she decided that his eyes changed colors. In the sunlight they shone like gold, though never matched the scowl on his face. In the rain they matched the mud on the ground, and it was the only time his eyes ever mirrored his mood. The best was when the sun had set and his eyes were dark like the ink-black sky, the stars shining in them like glittering jewels. It was different seeing the stars from Earth than it was seeing them from inside the Ark, where there was only a plate glass window separating them from the outside. On Earth, the stars are still far away, but the wide night sky allows for a better view. A century without light pollution resulting in billions of stars scattered across the sky, the deep purple of the galaxy illuminating them. Staring up at them one night, she wonders what he thinks of the view.

Once, on a mission, he happened to glance her way. The sun was shining on her blond hair, amplifying the different shades that made it complete. He'd never noticed how many colors there were before. The white-blond highlights shone the brightest, mixed in with dirty blonds and ash blonds. His glance lingered until she turned her head and caught him; he looked away, pretending not to notice that she'd seen. Once she'd faced forward again, he couldn't help but look back. A lingering glance or two later, and he had to force himself to stare at the ground while he walked. The grass was vibrantly green that day. It was the first time in a week it hadn't rained.

His hair, she noticed, was simply brown. Similar to the color of his eyes, but unlike his eyes, never changed. A constant, curly, thick mop of brown hair that sat in a mess atop his head. She liked it like that. Always dark; even when the sun shone on it. Admittedly, she'd liked it much better once he'd washed all the gel out of his hair. It had looked much darker when it had been slicked back over the top of his head.

One night, out in the woods, she had been laying down beside the fire while he'd been assigned watch. He did watch, for a while, before realizing that there was nothing around but him, her, and his little sister. He looked over at her; the warm orange glow of the fire illuminating her face. The orange mixed in with her hair, giving it an almost golden look. A few cuts on her face, he noticed, but he didn't know where she'd gotten them from. After watching for a little bit, and noticing all the things about her, he realized with a jolt that he was in love with her. He looked a little closer at the cut across her eyebrow and the one across her forehead; he wondered if she would be okay. But then, he remembered, she was Clarke. Of course she'd be okay.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she caught him looking at her once again. His gaze lingered a second longer before he looked away, training his eyes back at the trees, watching for any more threats. She liked the way the light of the fire emphasized the freckles on his face. He didn't have that many; just a light dusting across his nose and cheeks. She was still laying by the fire, and only half-awake, when she realized he was attractive. Somehow, this realization changed nothing. The world didn't do a flip and the white noise didn't shatter; she was still laying by the fire and he was still on watch. And since they were still the only ones awake, she decided it would be easier to talk.

Sometime later, on a different day, in a different place, they are the only ones awake yet again. The stars are out, and she has learned to pick out the constellations among the millions. Maybe, at this point, she's even made up a few of her own. He's there because he can't sleep, and because he would choose sitting awake with her over lying awake alone any day. They talk, mostly about the things they've done to get to this point. She looks over at him, and sees that his eyes are dark as the night, just as she remembered. Her gaze lingers, just as his had done so many times before. Her eyes are blue like the sky just before the sun rises.

When they finally do kiss, it feels like being able to see in color for the very first time.


	2. Reunion

He's counted every single day that's passed since she turned around at the gate and left. Most of them can't believe it at first: that she's really not coming back with them; that she really left. But they weren't the ones to talk to her before she did it. It was an eight hour walk back, and he'd used that time to fill her in on what had happened to him while they'd been separated. She told him about escaping in the first place, and what she and Anya had done to come back. She'd never said anything about leaving the minute everyone else arrived at the camp. It had been three months when everyone started to really forget, when everyone else had adjusted back. Ninety-one days, and it still stung to think about her leaving him to deal with everything on his own.

She was losing her mind, roaming around the woods, looking for places to go without being haunted by what she'd done. Her hands were soaked in blood, and there was nothing she could do to change that. The faces of the people she saved and the people she killed haunted her dreams; sleeping wasn't even an escape anymore. The face that haunts her most is his. The way he couldn't even look at her as she walked away, and the way he'd pleaded with her to come inside. Now they'd both set off to deal with the consequences on their own. That was her choice, she thinks. By the way he sounded, he hadn't wanted to deal with it alone. It had been so long since she'd seen another person; all alone in the woods with no one to keep her company but the voices inside her head.

He knew that she wouldn't come back on her own. That was the only thing he really knew for sure. He couldn't deal with things on his own anymore, and the only one who had a clue what he was going through was her. They had pulled that lever together; they were in the same boat. The only way he was ever going to see her again was if he went out to find her himself. Without much of a plan (or any of an idea at all) he set out to find her.

She had left to find herself, and in turn she'd lost her mind. The faces haunted every moment of her existence, every night in her dreams, every day when she tried to run father and farther away. Demons have a way of catching up with people. It had never mattered before, leaving behind the only person who might have some idea of what she was going through. She thought of him sometimes. She thought of her mother, and how badly she'd wanted to see her when she first came to the Ground. She thought of the remaining 44, and wondered how they were coping after what had been done to them. It was harder to think about the 44; they reminded her of everything that had happened and everyone who had died. Occasionally, she thought of Finn. He wasn't haunting her anymore; though part of her knew that Finn haunting her was better than the 380 people inside the mountain appearing in her dreams every night.

Late one night, he crept out of what was left of the Ark, snatched a gun, and army-crawled underneath a dead portion of the electric fence. The way she'd gone was on the other side, so he'd have to go into the forest and work his way round to not be seen by the guards. Hopefully they didn't think he was someone else and start shooting at him. As he quietly took the long way around, he realized as he left that he didn't have a clue where to start looking. He'd seen the general direction she was going, but it had been three months, and she had to have done quite a bit of wandering since then. For all he knew, she could be on the other side of the world. He figured, as he made his way towards the place where she'd left, that he'd made it this far, so he might as well keep going.

At that time of night was usually when she started to regret leaving. The regret usually wasn't as strong as the guilt, but she couldn't help thinking about the forty-four and how they were doing there without her. They were probably just as traumatized; being harvested on for bone marrow, being locked in cages like animals. She wondered about her mother, and how she was running things; she wondered about Bellamy. He was probably dealing with the forty-four as best he could. She thought of Jasper, and how he probably hated her for what she'd done. For what _they'd_ done. She thought of Monty. It never could've been done without Monty… all those people, all those lives, all that blood was on her hands, Bellamy's hands, Monty's hands. The blood of the burned grounders, on Jasper's hands... everyone was going through the same thing and she was the only one who left.

He wondered aimlessly throughout the night, looking for any trace that she'd been there at all. He couldn't face it alone anymore; they all needed her. What they'd done was on both of their hands, and they shouldn't have to deal with it alone. She started walking back in the direction she thought was towards camp. She wasn't sure how far she had come, but after three months of walking, she was sure she had a long way to go.

Another day passed. Two. He was sure he wouldn't find her, but he had to keep looking. He couldn't just turn back around and go back to camp without her. She kept going in the same direction, and slowly started to recognize her surroundings. She'd been here before. He kept walking in the dark of the night, seeing if anyone was around. So far he'd managed not to shoot anything or anyone, but he knew he couldn't keep wandering the woods and not run into someone else. She didn't have anything to defend herself with. She'd made it this far my improvising; using rocks and anything that was sharp to fend off predators. She was on high alert when in the middle of the night, she collided with something. No, some _one._

After running straight into someone else, he readied his gun, prepared to shoot. The blond hair was what made him stop. The familiar face made him let the gun drop. "Clarke?"

She looked straight at him; the person she'd left behind. "Bellamy?"


	3. Shooting Star

The night was quiet. Adjusting to life back at camp after what they'd done had proven quite difficult; there were a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of regret, but they were making their way through it as best they could. Most nights, once everyone else was asleep, she was alone, sitting underneath the stars. On this particular night, there was quite a spectacular meteor shower happening in the atmosphere. That was the night that he'd gone outside carrying an orange blanket—one of the ones they'd found in the bunker. It had seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd been teaching her to shoot in that bunker, an orange blanket hanging in the doorway as a target. He was surprised this one had lasted that long. That night, he was the one to place the blanket around her shoulders and take a seat next to her under the stars.

It appeared as if someone had taken a handful of jewels and tossed them across the sky, leaving brilliant tails of light trailing behind them. The two of them sat in silence for a while, heads tilted upwards to watch the phenomenon. He knew he wasn't really watching falling stars—a rock burning up in the atmosphere wasn't really a star, but it was nice to watch and pretend. He cut his eyes at her, finding her still silently watching the meteor shower. Deciding to break the silence, he echoed something that sounded familiar to him: a question she'd asked before.

"Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?"

She turns her head to look at him, perhaps remembering the night they set off the flares, and she'd asked him that exact question. He met her gaze, wondering if she would answer, perhaps tell him what she would wish for. Instead, she turned to look straight ahead of her, resting her chin on her knees.

"I wouldn't even know what to wish for."

She'd copied his response; she remembered. He looked from her to back up at the sky, and realized that he knew exactly what he would wish for.


	4. Holding Hands

Admittedly, the first time they held hands was on accident. One might not even consider it holding hands—after all, grabbing someone's hand to keep them from falling in a pit isn't quite "holding hands". But that was how it happened; he'd been quite annoyed with her, and she had with him, over the bracelets they were given when they first came down. One second, they were walking towards the boy tied to the tree, and the next, a hole had opened up in the ground and before even thinking about it he grabbed her hand to save her. She looked surprised, to say the least, that it was him who'd grabbed her instead of Finn or Wells. He remembered what she'd said earlier, about the bracelet: "The only way the Ark is gonna think I'm dead, is if I'm dead. Got it?"

He really needed the Ark to think she was dead, but letting her die? That wasn't who he was. After eyeing up the bracelet, he started to pull her back out of the pit. Suddenly, everyone else rushed over to help her, too. No one else had grabbed her hand.

In reality, they hadn't held hands romantically for a while after they'd met. There had been a time after they'd captured the Grounder, when she'd stayed on the level to remove the nail from his hand. He'd done that; he hadn't wanted to, but Finn's life was on the line, they needed an antidote, and they also needed to know everything about the Grounders. He saw her walking out of the dropship with the nail in her hand, and he'd caught up with her and grabbed her hand. He'd taken the nail from her, and she'd turned around to face him.

"Clarke," he said, "who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things." She looked at him for a few seconds, before turning to look back at the dropship. She was more preoccupied the current mess they were in—both of them: the Grounder and the one left by the hurricane. After speaking about the Grounder, he went back to doing his job and she went back to doing hers.

The next time was not something he liked thinking about. He'd put his hand on top of hers, when they'd pulled the lever together. The lever had irradiated level 5 of Mount Weather, killing all the residents there. It had to be done; if not, they would've continued harvesting the 47 for bone marrow. She couldn't take the guilt; she left, and he had to deal with what they'd done on his own.

She's been back a while now. Spends a lot of time alone. Sometimes her mother needs her in medical, and she comes when she's needed, but never says much. One day his left arm is hit by a stray bullet and they send him to medical to make sure he hadn't damaged anything. Abby's not there to treat him, but Clarke is. She looks tired; her eyes are dim and she's slow to react that he's standing there with a hold in his arm. It isn't his only injury; his face is covered in cuts and he's pretty sure he's had worse, but it gives him an excuse to see her. She sits him down, makes him take off the jacket he was wearing, and examines the wound.

"You're lucky," she says. "The bullet didn't shatter."

Treatment isn't exactly easy. He's not in shock, which is always a good thing, but she does need to stop the bleeding and prevent him from _going into_ shock. The quick fix for an open wound on the Ground would be to cauterize it, but given the fact that she was planning on removing the bullet, she started making a tourniquet instead. She tears a strip of cloth off of his shirt and ties it around his arm, above the wound.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asks. "Lightheaded? Anything?"

"I'm fine," he says.

"You should probably drink something anyway," she leaves his side for a short time to get some water from a canteen. He hasn't lost that much blood; he would've been fine with or without the water, but she brings it to him anyway. Even though he has one good arm, she doesn't hand it to him, instead just holds it up to his mouth. He isn't able to drink more than a few mouthfuls, so she takes the canteen away and begins worrying about cleaning the wound. She used some water to clean it out first, and then she had to focus on removing the bullet. "We don't have any anesthetics," she warned.

"Okay," he said.

"You'll be awake when I'm taking out the bullet," she explained further. "It's going to be painful."

He took a deep breath, turning his head away from his arm. "Do it."

She left his side once again (probably sterilizing the medical tools) before returning about five minutes later. "Brace yourself," was the only warning she gave him before cutting into his arm to remove the bullet. He didn't scream, as far as he remembers. Clarke had managed to work quickly and get the bullet out before he'd been lying on the operating table screaming in pain. After the bullet was out, she loosened the tourniquet, and he faintly heard her say that she was going to cauterize the wound now that it was out.

In the next ten minutes, she'd pressed a hot blade to his arm, dressed the wound, and put his arm in a sling. He was left sitting half-dazed on an operating table, and she took a seat to his right. She was silent, for a while, frowning at the bullet and strip of cloth sitting on the metal tray. He wasn't sure what to say to her—a thank you would've done—but he couldn't make himself say anything.

"I think about what we did all the time," she broke the silence, still staring at the bullet on the tray. "What we did to those people… I don't know how to live with myself." She finally looked up at him and met his gaze. He couldn't read the exact emotions in her eyes; confusion, guilt, and regret were a few. "I can't stand to _look_ at any of them anymore, because they all remind me of what happened…"

She broke the gaze and was silent again, and he was too, for a minute, before reaching out with his good arm and taking her hand. "Hey," he said. "It's going to be okay. We'll get through this together." It was what he'd told her the day she'd left, and he still meant it. He was done resenting her—he'd done enough of that, and now it was time to move on. She looked back at him, and squeezed his hand. It was time to deal with things the way they'd started them—together.


	5. Alternate Universe

He's in the guard when he first meets her. It's the Unity Day Masquerade dance, and he is a cadet monitoring it, making sure everything goes over smoothly. There's music playing and there are dancing teenagers everywhere. One boy is even wearing a pair of goggles instead of a mask—strange. He can scarcely remember the last time he attended the Masquerade dance. He was about fifteen—of course, he'd mostly kept to himself then. While everyone dances around him, he isn't paying much attention until he is approached by a blond girl with her hair in a braid. She dances near him, and he cuts his eyes at her, until she notices he's watching.

"Hey," she says.

He stares for a bit, arms crossed behind his back, before he smirks. He looks over at the other guards, making sure none of them are watching. "Hey," he says back. "Any reason you're chatting with a guard instead of dancing with your friends?"

The girl shrugged. "Well, my friend isn't here, and the guard's pretty cute, so it's not a bad deal."

He huffed, smiling, turning his head and rolling his eyes a bit.

"What do you mean by that?" she laughed. "That's my honest opinion. You're a good-looking guard." At that point, she'd stopped dancing to continue on the conversation. She wasn't so bad looking herself; though she was undoubtedly a few years younger than he was. "How did you get stuck monitoring the Masquerade?" She asked him. He tried to look her in the eye, but her mask was a bit distracting; purple and glittery that shimmered when it caught the light.

"My unit was assigned here," he explained.

"Was it a punishment?" she asked, smirking.

He grinned. "Somebody's gotta do it." When he finished saying it, the lights came on and the music shut off. A new unit of guards flooded into the room, and a voice crackled over the PA system.

"SOLAR FLARE ALERT. AN X-CLASS SOLAR FLARE HAS BEGUN ON THE STARBOARD SIDE OF THE ARK. ALL CITIZENS MUST REPORT TO THE NEAREST SHELTER ZONE IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A TEST."

"This is a solar flare alert," Lieutenant Shumway, the head of the unit that had entered, spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, you know the drill. Masks off. ID chips out."

The girl in front of him pulled the mask over her head and fixed her braid before looking back over at him. Her eyes were deep blue, like the ocean on Earth he saw from the training room window. "I'm Clarke Griffin," she introduced, smiling. She was even prettier without the mask.

"Bellamy Blake," he said.

"But you need the ID…" she realized, reaching down to get out her ID chip.

"Oh, I don't have a scanner," he explained. "I'm only a cadet."

"Oh," she said, sounding a bit disappointed. "Well, Bellamy Blake," she began putting her ID chip back, "I work at Ark Station Medical… If you ever need anything from there, ask for me," she gestured towards him, smiling, before going to find a guard with a scanner.

"So? How was the dance this year?" His mother asked when he opened the door to their living quarters. She, along with Bellamy's sister, was sitting at the metal table, working on one of the guard's damaged uniforms. "Same as always?" her eyes darted up from the uniform, waiting for an answer.

"It was alright," he said, dropping his bag. Evacuating everyone had been a chore, but as far as he knew, everyone had made it back to their quarters safely. He approached the metal table before having a seat on the floor, near the table. They only had two chairs because only two people were registered to live there.

"I heard there was a solar flare alert," his mother said. "Was everything okay?"

"Everything was fine," he said. "We got it evacuated and everyone's safe. It's all under control."

"I wish I could've gone," his sister Octavia said.

"You know we couldn't have risked that," their mother said.

"I would've been wearing a mask!" she said angrily.

"And what would you have done during the solar flare alert? You don't have an ID," Aurora explained to her daughter. "It's too dangerous."

"You wouldn't have been able to stay long anyway," Bellamy said. "And it's not like anything exciting happened. Well, I mean this one girl came up to me and we talked—"

"A girl?" his mother asked, giving him a look.

"Mom," he said.

"I'm just saying, you never mentioned a girl before—"

" _Mom_ ," he said again.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," she said, holding up her hands in defeat before going back to working on the uniform. They sat in silence for a little while until his mother grinned and asked, "Was she cute?"

"Oh my God."

After an inspection of his health records, the guard sends him to Ark Station Medical to get his shots updated. On his way there, he thinks of the blonde Clarke Griffin. When he shows up at Medical, he doesn't even need to ask for her; she is the one who greets him. It only takes her a moment to recognize him.

"Hi!" she greeted. "What can I do for you today, Bellamy Blake?"

"I'm here to get my shots updated," he explained.

"Okay," she said. "Come with me, and we'll get you situated." She led him over to an examination table. "Have a seat." He sat on top of the examination table, and she began searching through the digital archives for his medical records. Everyone on the Ark had digital records of everything; medical history, family history, criminal records, etc. "So, you're here to get the seasonal virus vaccinations?" she asked.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"Alright," she said, setting down the digital records. "Stay right here and I'll be back in a few minutes with the vaccines." She left him sitting on the examination table, and he entertained himself by looking around the room and daydreaming. Clarke really was pretty, and she seemed nice. She interrupted his thoughts by coming back with the syringes. "Roll your sleeve up, please," she said, picking up one of the syringes.

He rolled up his sleeve, and she rubbed iodine on his forearm before she began searching for a vein. He watched her brow furrow in concentration, and her eyes dart around his arm.

"So what station are you from?" she asked, getting ready to give him the vaccination.

"Factory Station," he answered, watching her give him the shot. "What about you?"

"Alpha Station," she said. It made sense that she came from one of the more privileged stations; she was a medical student, after all. "How long have you been a member of the guard?"

"I started training when I was… I wanna say eighteen?" he winced as she pulled the needle out of his arm. "But I've only been in the actual guard for about a year. How long have you been a medical student?"

"My mother's a doctor," she explained, "so I've always known a little bit about medicine, but I've been apprenticed here for about two years now." She reached for the other syringe. "This one might sting a little," she gave him the shot about half an inch lower on his arm than the first one. It had stung, but he ignored it, and she stuck two bandages on the places where the needles were. "Okay, you should be good to go."

"Wait," he said as she started walking away. She turned around, eyebrows raised. "I was wondering if you'd uh, like to go to dinner tonight?"

Her father wasn't exactly happy that the boy who showed up at his door to take his daughter to dinner ended up being Bellamy. There was nothing wrong with Bellamy; perhaps it was the fact that he was older than Clarke. Or maybe it was just the fact that a boy was coming to take his daughter out to dinner. When he showed up at the door, Clarke was in another room of the living quarters.

When he'd told his mother and sister he'd had a date, they'd lost their minds. His mother had rushed to fix the hole in his best shirt, and his sister had spent at least twenty minutes trying to make his hair look decent. He'd reluctantly stood still as she'd smoothed his hair in one direction, and then the other, bickering with him until she finally decided that it looked better the way it was before.

Jake Griffin stared Bellamy down as he stood in the doorway, waiting for Clarke. Bellamy smiled politely, though it wasn't returned. He would've at least tried to make conversation, but he had no clue what to say to him. Clarke finally met him at the door, wearing a red dress with her hair in an updo. She smiled when she saw him, and he smiled back. As they stood in the doorway, he heard her mother yell from inside, "Have fun! Be back by eleven," before Clarke shut the door.

"Sorry about my dad," she apologized as they started to walk away from the door.

"It's alright. You look lovely," he complimented.

"Thank you. You're not half-bad yourself… I like what you did with your hair." She said, pointing up at his hair.

"Thanks. My… mother did it," he had to stop himself from saying 'sister', but then laughed at the idea of his mother doing his hair.

"So where are we going to dinner?" she asked.

"Well, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I thought maybe I'd let you pick."

He can't remember the name of the place she picks, but he knows he's never been there before. There's music playing from a stereo somewhere; some songs he's heard, some he hasn't. They are seated at a table for two, and their thumbs are scanned for ration points before they are given the food they ordered.

"So you said you're from the Factory Station?" she asks.

"Yeah. From the Factory Station and my mother's a seamstress, so I don't know how I got into the guard," It was a lie. He knew exactly how his mother had gotten him the letter of recommendation, but he preferred not to think about it.

"What about your father?" she asked.

"Oh, uh, he actually died when I was a kid," he explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

"No, it's fine," he assured. "You said your mother was a doctor? What about your father; what does he do?"

She grinned, looking down at her food. "My father is actually an engineer," she said.

"An engineer?" he asked, amazed. "Your parents are a doctor and an engineer?"

"Yep," she nodded.

"Wow," he said, impressed. "No wonder you're so smart."

"It comes in handy sometimes," she said, smirking.

"Did you always know that you wanted to be a doctor?" he asked.

"Actually, when I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist," she explained. "I still love to draw, but it's not something I can get paid to do." She looked down at her food and pushed it around on her plate with her fork. "I just sort of followed in my mother's footsteps. So, what about you?" she looked up. "Did you always wanted to be a guard?"

He laughed to himself, remembering what he'd wanted to do as a child. "I'm pretty sure when I was a kid I wanted to be a gladiator." She'd laughed at that.

They continued talking until their food was finished, and he asked her if she wanted to dance. She agreed, and they both went out to dance. The music was a girl singing about how she wanted her lover to keep loving her like they had. It wasn't that slow a song, so he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to dance. She, however, took him by his hands and started waltzing around the floor. Towards the end of the song, when the chorus was repeating, she took him by both of his hands and started turning in circles.

"Spin with me," she said, and the two of them started spinning around the dance floor until the song ended. By that time they were both laughing and it was nearing eleven o'clock.

He had her outside her front door at 10:55. "Tonight was really fun," he said.

She nodded, smiling. "I'd love to do it again sometime." Then, she leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She waved goodbye to him, and then stepped inside.

They went out again, and then a third time, then a fourth, and then after that he lost track. He didn't remember exactly when they'd made their relationship official, but he knew it had been around a year since then. He'd just gotten off his shift, and was still wearing his guard uniform when he stopped by her living quarters and knocked on the door. He heard a 'come in!' from inside, so he opened the door and found Clarke sitting on the couch, drawing.

"Hey, princess," he greeted. "Wanna go for a walk?"

"Of course," she said, getting up from the couch before she started walking towards the door.

"Clarke," a voice called from another room, and both Bellamy and Clarke stopped. Clarke's father stepped out from another room in the living quarters, looking at the two of them. "Bring her back at five, got it, Blake?"

"No problem, sir," he said, and then he and Clarke walked out the door.

Once they were out the door and walking down the corridor, she reached up and touched his hair, which was slicked back with a large amount of hair gel. "What did you do to your hair?" she asked.

"Tried something different," he said, running a hand over his gelled-back hair. "Not sure if it was the best choice."

"It looks fine," she assured. "I just like your natural hair the best."

"My natural hair?" he asked, grinning.

"Yeah, when it's just a mop of curly hair. No gel or anything."

"I'll have to remember that, princess," he winked at her, grinning.

She grinned back, shaking her head at him. They walked silently for a few feet before she said, "You know what I realized the other day?"

"What?" he asked.

"I've never met your mother," she said. His eyes widened; he hoped he wouldn't have to take her to his living quarters, not with Octavia there.

"Really?" he asked, feigning shock. He'd purposely avoided taking her to his living quarters.

"Yeah," she said. "I mean, you've met my parents, and I don't think I've ever seen your mother around."

"I'll talk to her about meeting you," he said quickly. "She's really busy today, so I'll see when would be a good time." he thought up a lie about his mother being busy so they wouldn't have to go to his living quarters to meet her; not when he knew Octavia was still up and about. Though he knew Octavia would love to meet Clarke, he couldn't risk telling Clarke about Octavia.

"Okay," Clarke said, sounding satisfied with his response. "You wanna go to the Sky Deck?"

The Sky Deck was Bellamy and Clarke's favorite place to be. Over the years the Ark had been in orbit, the Sky Deck had become a bit overrated, and while it was a good place to view comets and meteor showers, no one really used it as a place to get together. The Sky Deck not being popularly used also made it a good place to talk about things privately. Once they arrived, they laid out to look up through the glass roof at the stars, propping themselves up on their arms. Bellamy shifted his weight to one arm, using the other to hold her hand. He brings her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"I think your father hates me," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't know, it's just that every time I come around, he's just sort of… cold, I guess," he tried to explain his thoughts, but had trouble getting his point across.

"He doesn't _hate_ you," Clarke assured. "He's just kind of protective. I mean, you're dating me and also five years older. I guess he's just kind of worried."

"You have a point," he said. "But it's been a year."

"He'll warm up to you eventually," Clarke said, leaning her head on his shoulder, looking up at the stars. "We'll figure something out."

He leaned his head against hers. "Can we figure it out later?"

After a lot of arguing and persistence, Bellamy gets his mother to agree to meet Clarke within the next month. They won't meet in their living quarters, Bellamy knows that, so he arranges for them to meet somewhere else. He chooses the mess hall, where they will be surrounded by other people. He announces that it's time to leave at two, and they finally make it out of the living quarters after Aurora gives Octavia extensive instructions on what to do if someone shows up at the living quarters—as if she hadn't heard them a million times before.

Clarke is waiting for them at a table when they arrive, looking around the mess hall. Her eyes light up when she spots Bellamy. He smiles at her, and Clarke waves them over. Aurora's shoulders are covered by a faded gray shawl, and her hair is slightly unkempt, though if Clarke minds Bellamy can't tell from her facial expression. He and his mother head over to the table, and she stands to greet them.

"Hi!" she says, smiling. "I'm Clarke."

Aurora returns her smile. "Hello, Clarke. I'm Aurora. It's so lovely to finally meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you, too," Clarke said, and the three of them sat down, Bellamy and his mother across from Clarke.

"So, Clarke," his mother starts, "Bellamy tells me you work at Ark Station Medical?"

Clarke nods. "Yes," she confirms. "It can be kind of demanding, but I like it."

"That's good," Aurora says. "They say if you like what you do, you never really work a day in your life."

Bellamy is surprised at how at-east his mother seems. However, he knows that in the back of her mind she's worrying about Octavia; she always did. She and Clarke continued their conversation, with a few questions directed towards Bellamy. At one point, he'd got up and left the table, and returned a few minutes later to hear the tail-end of the conversation they'd been having while he was gone.

"Probably best not to tell him that. Don't want him getting too cocky," his mother said before he sat down.

"Hmm?" he asked.

Aurora turned towards him and stared at him blankly. "What?"

"What were you saying?" he asked.

"I was just talking to Clarke," Aurora explained, nodding her head towards Clarke as she said it. The two were smiling; they didn't want to tell him. He'd smirked and shook his head—they'd barely known each other for an hour and they were already keeping secrets.

One day, while he is visiting with Clarke, there is a minor power outage in Alpha Station. On the Ark, that meant two things: the lights were out and the doors weren't opening. He was used to it; power outages were more common in Factory Station than they were anywhere else. The Griffins had the emergency lamps, like everyone else, but there's were dim like candlelight instead of bright and fluorescent.

Abby Griffin was at Ark Station Medical, and Jake Griffin was probably already trying to fix the power outage. They were alone, and sat around one of the candlelight emergency lamps. Clarke held her sketchbook in her lap, turning over the cover and pushing it behind the spiral. Bellamy'd requested to see her sketches, and she'd gingerly retrieved it, as if she was self-conscious of her drawings. The first was a charcoal drawing of a forest; trees stretching to the sky and so detailed he could identify some of the flowers.

She flipped through her sketchbook, skipping over the ones she deemed bad, and showed him her drawing of an orchid, a soccer player from a 100-year-old game, a colored-pencil drawing of the cosmos, and finally… a drawing of him. She'd grinned, embarrassed, when she showed him. He was in his guard's uniform, arms folded behind his back, smirking.

"Is this from the Unity Day dance?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered, her cheeks reddening. "I thought you were cute."

"I remember you saying it," he said, examining the drawing. He could tell she'd spent a lot of time on it; she'd even managed to get his freckles, which only really showed up when the Ark had a lot of contact with any UV rays. "Have you drawn me since then?"

"Yeah," she admitted, and he slid the sketchbook back over towards her so she could find the sketches. She shows him a drawing of him lying on his back in Clarke's bed, closed eyes, wild hair, and a slight grin on his face.

"I like that one," he said. "Don't show it to your parents, though."

On more than one occasion, they'd been alone when he'd visited, and—well, they'd used that to their advantage. He looks at the picture a little longer before she starts flipping through her sketchbook again, suddenly excited to show him one of her more recent drawings. He watches her eyes light up, and his lips turn up in a smile involuntarily. Watching her passionately explain each drawing is when he realizes: he's in love with her.

Holy _shit_ he's in love with her.

He knew he loved her—he knew that. But loving someone and being _in love_ with someone are two very different things. Though the realization knocks the wind out of him, his grin falters only for a second before he continues on like nothing had changed. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that everything changed.

The lights came back on, suddenly, giving better lighting for viewing her art but ruining whatever moment they'd been having. He squints at the sudden brightness, and she closes her sketchbook, setting it on the ground before going to collect the emergency lamps.

He scours the exchange for weeks, eyes darting to anything shiny. He saves his ration points religiously, knowing he won't have anything of value to trade for a ring. A ring. He tells no one, but choses days when Clarke has plans with Wells to go looking for one. So far, he's had no luck.

Finally, after looking and looking and being unable to find anything, he goes to his mother. She's sitting at the metal table, and Octavia is sitting on the floor, reading an old book Bellamy had managed to swipe from the exchange years ago. Neither of them are paying attention, though he doesn't really feel like dropping the bomb without any sort of warning. He pulls the second chair out from the table, and sits down, hands folded.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he asks.

"Sure, honey," his mother said, only half-paying attention, still trying to reattach the sleeve of a child's shirt.

"I'm gonna ask Clarke to marry me."

His mother's hands stop, and Octavia's head shoots up from the book. His mother slowly turns her head towards him. "What?" she asks, almost in disbelief.

"I'm asking Clarke to marry me," he said again, this time a grin spreading across his face. It takes five seconds for the news to fully hit Octavia before she starts freaking out. She tosses the book aside and scrambles to get off of the floor. The next thing he knew, his sister had him in a tackle hug. Octavia's squeal had managed to hit an octave that only a teenage girl could manage.

"Oh my god, Bell!" she said, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "You're getting married!"

"I haven't asked yet," he said, hardly able to force the words out of his throat until Octavia had loosened her grip. "I don't even have a ring."

Wordlessly, their mother stood from her chair and went to her room in the living quarters. Bellamy watched her leave.

"Does this mean I get to meet her?" Octavia asked.

"Hopefully," he answered.

His mother returned to the room shortly after leaving, carrying something in the palm of her hand. She sat back at the metal table, unfolding her hand to reveal an engagement ring. It had a golden band and a shining stone.

"Your father gave me this ring when he proposed," Aurora explained, and slipped the ring into her son's hand. "I don't need it anymore. Clarke is lovely," Aurora smiled. Bellamy felt like she was going to keep speaking, but Aurora didn't continue, so instead, Octavia chimed in.

"Do you have it all planned out?" she asked.

"I was thinking of taking her to the place where we had our first date," he explained.

"Romantic," Octavia said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Anything else?"

"There was this one song playing… I can't remember what it was called, but I remember how it goes." he said.

"I won't be able to help much with that," Octavia said. "Mom, do you have any suggestions?"

"I'll let him do what he wants to do," Aurora said.

Octavia, wanting to plan in any way possible, dashed into the other room to get something to write on. That left Bellamy alone and in silence with his mother.

"Thank you," Bellamy finally said. "For the ring, I mean. I know it must mean a lot to you."

His mother smiled tightly at him, and took his hand in both of hers. "I just want you to be happy."

The entire date is a blur. He's too focused on his heart thudding against his ribcage and the ring burning a hole in his pocket. He never did figure out the name of that song, but he's too busy going over the speech in his head, hoping it'll sound as good out loud as it did when he thought it up. She looks so beautiful; her eyes so blue, her face lit up with a smile. He mutters something along the lines of 'I need to tell you something' before getting out of his chair and dropping to one knee, pulling the ring out of his pocket. Her jaw dropped.

"Princess," the nickname fell sweetly from his lips. "When I first met you, and you came up and talked to me even though I was in the guard, I knew you weren't like anyone I'd ever met. I can't imagine my life without you in it. I love you, and I will for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?" It's shorter than he remembers, and his heart is pounding so hard he swears people on the other side of the restaurant can hear it.

"Yes," she says, her eyes watering up, and slips the ring over her finger. He rises to both of his feet and pulls her into a hug. The restaurant cheers, applauding them.

They marry in April. He is twenty-six; she is twenty-one. The guest list is small, consisting of family, Clarke's friends Wells, Harper, and Raven, and Bellamy's friends Miller and Murphy. Octavia had insisted on coming, and her mother had only allowed her too once she had a disguise and obtained a fake ID. Even then, they knew it was dangerous. As long as she was asked not to _use it,_ then she would be fine.

Clarke's wedding dress is white, lacy. It almost looks brand new. Brand new things are nonexistent on the Ark, but with a little touching up and switching things here and there, it's as close as something gets to being new. Bellamy's mother had been the one to fix it up, and had always sent him into the other room while she worked on it, claiming that it was bad luck for the groom the see the wedding dress. He complied, though begrudgingly—he could hear the muffled voices of his mother and sister through the wall, trying to hear what they were saying.

The vows are short, sweet—to the point. They exchanged rings, kissed, and that was that. They were married. Most of the time meant for the ceremony was actually used for an after party, where Miller gave his best man speech that had everyone cracking up. Bellamy and Clarke sat together, hand in hand. Clarke laughed while Miller poked fun at Bellamy, but Bellamy only rolled his eyes, grinning. Bellamy kept an eye on Octavia, who sat across the room from him and Clarke, and spoke to one of the gatecrashers: a boy sporting a pair of black goggles on his forehead.

"Who's that girl over there?" Clarke leaned in to ask Bellamy, her eyes on Octavia.

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Want me to introduce you?" Clarke nodded in response. "I'll talk to her later. I'm sure she would love to meet you," he looked back up at Miller.

At the wedding, Bellamy finds out that Jake Griffin has indeed warmed up to him, just like Clarke predicted he would. He congratulates the both of them, kisses his daughter on the cheek, and smiles at Bellamy when he shakes his hand.

The wedding ending shortly after Murphy had a few too many drinks and the gate crashers left. Bellamy and Clarke had to be assigned a new living quarters in Alpha now that they were married. They'd filled out forms days beforehand, and towards the end of the ceremony, had found out where they'd be living. They wouldn't be going to their new living quarters just yet, though.

It was late on the Ark; anyone who wasn't at the wedding was probably asleep, which made it even safer to get Octavia back home undetected. Bellamy had talked to his mother about Clarke meeting Octavia. Aurora had, of course, immensely protested. Under normal circumstances, Bellamy wouldn't trust anyone with that secret. But this was his _wife_. The woman he'd be spending the rest of his life with; knowing that, he wasn't sure how long he'd manage to keep that secret.

Bellamy and Clarke followed Aurora and Octavia back to their living quarters. "I've never been to your living quarters before," Clarke said as they walked.

"I know," he said.

Aurora looks both ways before opening the door to the living quarters, ushering Octavia into the room first. She walked in after, followed by Clarke then Bellamy, who shut the door behind him.

Octavia stood in the center of the room, facing Clarke. Clarke looked confused at first, before Bellamy went and stood next to Octavia. "Clarke, this is Octavia," he explained, pausing before finishing with, "my sister."

"Your sister," she repeated, and he saw the realization hit her eyes. "That's why you never took me here before."

"Yeah," he nodded.

Clarke looked stunned; she wasn't even sure what to say. "I won't tell anybody," was what came out of her mouth after searching for the right words.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Octavia offered. "Bell's told me a lot about you."

A quick smile spread across Clarke's face. "I can't imagine what he's said."

"Good things," Octavia assured, smiling.

They were getting along. This could work.

Clarke adjusted well to the information about Octavia; it's like it's the most normal thing in the world. Bellamy Blake has a sister. They go and visit Octavia and Aurora often, and Bellamy has to admit that it's nice for Octavia having someone to talk to who isn't him or his mother.

It's late November. Bellamy first notices that something's wrong when Clarke wakes up twice in the middle of the night to vomit. He assumes she has a bug, which isn't uncommon, but they've already received the seasonal shots. In the morning, it happens again. She has to call in to tell the Medical Center she can't make it, because even sitting up makes her dizzy and nauseous. He feels terrible because he still has to show up at work, because he's in the guard and someone's always doing something.

When he gets home that afternoon, she's sitting at the table with a glass of water. She takes a drink out of it and cuts her eyes at him once he walks in the door.

"Hey," he greets. "Feeling any better?"

She shook her head, setting the glass down. "Not really," she says.

"Still nauseous?" he asks, walking across the room and sitting down across the table from her.

"Nauseous," she says, "and really sore. I didn't do anything. I…" she stops, staring at the wall, as if choosing her words carefully, deciding whether or not she really wants to say them. "I think I'm pregnant," she says, only looking at him after the words are already out.

He feels a jolt in his chest. A million things run through his head and he tries to find the right one to say, before finally settling on, "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Let's say… ninety-five percent sure," she said.

"They can figure that out at the Medical Center, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "They can run some blood and urine tests."

"Do you want to go to the Medical Center just to be sure?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the table. Pregnant. He hadn't expected them to have a baby for a little longer, or at least until they were a little older.

"Yeah," she answered. "Give me a second. I just get a little dizzy when I stand up." She took another sip of water before rising from her chair, swaying only just a little. She caught herself on the table, waited a bit, and then she walked steadily towards the door, Bellamy behind her.

They walked to the Medical Center, people they knew smiling at them on the way there. Once they'd arrived, the wait was short until Clarke was called and taken back to one of the examination rooms; Clarke had told Bellamy to follow her, even though he was sure he wasn't supposed to. The both of them entered the examination room, where Clarke sat on top of one of the foam examination tables covered with a thin paper. They sat in silence, waiting for a doctor to come and see her. Clarke puts a hand to her forehead, eyes closed.

"You alright?" Bellamy asks.

She takes a deep breath. "Fine," she says, and lets her hand fall to her side. "I just got a little nauseous."

The real doctor finally comes into the examination room carrying a digital clipboard. "Hello," she greets. "What's the problem today?" she asked, swiping a few times on the clipboard.

"I think I'm pregnant," Clarke explained.

"Oh!" the doctor's tone was cheery. "So you're here to get the tests?"

"Yes," Clarke answered.

"Alright. Before we do the tests, I'm going to ask you a few simple questions," the doctor explained.

Bellamy had tuned out the doctor, not wanting to eavesdrop on any personal questions. The doctor eventually took Clarke out of the room, and he was told to sit tight until she returned, which was about ten minutes later.

"Was that the test?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Did she say how long it would be until you know?"

"About five to ten minutes."

Once again, they were left sitting in silence until the doctor returned to the examination room with the results, a smile on her face. "The results came back positive," she said. "Congratulations."

They set up a nursery of sorts in the spare room of their living quarters. It's nothing special yet; they still need to find the majority of the things at the exchange. He goes to his mother first for smaller things, so word doesn't get out before either of their families know. He starts off small, asking for something ambiguous. "Hey, Mom," he says. "Do you have any blankets? Small ones?"

"Small blankets," Aurora repeats under her breath, going into another room to look. She returns a few minutes later, two or three blankets draped over her forearm. Bellamy's pretty sure they used to be his or Octavia's. "Will these work?"

"Yeah," he says, taking them. "Thank you. What about a, uh, pacifier?"

"A pacifier," she says, and then the realization hits her eyes. Her hand comes up and covers her mouth, and a slow smile spreads across Bellamy's face. "Is she?" Aurora asks, taking her hand away from her mouth and pressing it to her chest. Bellamy nods. "Oh! Honey," she says, grinning, and then steps forwards to hug her son.

"What? What's going on?" Octavia enters the room, having been in the back of the living quarters. Bellamy's old room. It didn't stop the fact that she had to hide in the floor during inspections, but it least it gave her somewhere better to sleep.

"Clarke's pregnant," Bellamy announced.

Octavia's jaw dropped before she smiled, and ran to hug her brother. "I'm going to be an… an aunt?" she questioned, looking up at Bellamy.

"An aunt," he assured. "We don't have everything ready yet. I came over here to see if you might have some things."

"What all do you need?" Aurora asked.

"We still need a cradle, I've got the blankets, some clothes, a pacifier, diapers… Everything, basically," he said.

"I might have some clothes somewhere," Aurora said, heading to the back of the living quarters. Octavia looked at her brother, only able to excitedly jump up and down with her hands pressed together.

People start to notice. Clarke's stomach swells, and it becomes easier to see as the months go on. Others especially love to stop and touch her stomach, seeing if they can feel the baby move or kick. After a few visits to the Medical Center, they'd determined the baby should arrive in late July.

She is lying in bed, asleep. He traces spirals across her stomach with his forefinger, feeling the baby move or kick occasionally. Feeling the baby move made all of it seem much more real, more real than all the preparations from the nursery had. His eyes dart across her stomach, watching the places he traced. The kid purposely moves away from his touch. Already stubborn, like its mother.

Bellamy has to take Clarke to the Medical Center in the early hours of July 24th. Their son is born by seven in the morning. The doctor's apprentice is young, about sixteen, though is surprisingly much calmer than Bellamy had been through the whole thing. He's the second one to hold his son, who is carefully handed over to him only after Clarke falls asleep, and he finally gets a good look at him.

He's got thin dark hair, chubby cheeks, and Bellamy recognizes Clarke's nose. The kid whines, and opens his eyes just wide enough for Bellamy to tell that they're dark like his. His little hands are balled into fists, which he waves around erratically. Bellamy loves the boy from the second he sees him.

Clarke wakes up a few hours later when the boy starts to wail, and he is once again handed back to his mother. She rocks the child in her arms, trying to soothe him. Once he's quiet, Clarke comments, "I think he looks like you,"

"He's got your nose," Bellamy says.

"He has your everything else," she said, looking up at him tiredly.

Knox Blake meets his grandmother and aunt three days after his birth, when his mother and father finally decide to take him down to the Factory Station. Octavia is the first one to get ahold of him, smiling as she comments about his resemblance to Bellamy. Aurora looks over her daughter's shoulder to see her grandson, smiling when he opens his eyes.

They stay until the late evening, long after the baby has fallen asleep.


	6. Paper

It starts off as a normal morning. She heads to class with an armful of notebooks, balancing a cup of coffee on top of them. Her first hour is Art History. It's a required class, but admittedly, Clarke would've taken it whether it was required or not. She walked into class, right on time, as usual, and hurried over to her desk. She was in the middle of setting her books down on her desk when she noticed something sitting in the middle of it, a split second before her books would have crushed it. She adjusted her grip on her books, shifting them to the side in order to see what it was.

A deep red, neatly folded origami rose. She stared at it; someone had placed it smack dab in the middle of her desk, and hadn't left a clue as to who had made it. Clarke carefully took the cup of coffee off the top of her books, placing it on the corner of her desk, before setting her books to the side. She carefully picked up the paper rose; it was light, delicate. Someone had taken great care in making it. Clarke glances around the room, but no one seems to notice that she's found something. So, instead of saying something, she takes a seat at her desk, and runs her thumb over one of the rose's rounded petals.

The next morning, a second rose is sat in the middle of her desk, this time a pale pink, folded in a different style than the first. The folding style was blockier and looked closer to a real rose than the first one had; whoever'd made it had worked harder on this one. Clarke smiled at the sight of it, picking it up as she took her seat. This one didn't feel as fragile, as if she could turn it over and examine it without bending it.

The third morning, she is looking for it as she walks into class. Sure enough, there is another paper rose, sitting towards the front of her desk. It looks more like the one yesterday, except this time it's made out of sheet music. Sheet music; that's a new one. She smiles as she picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand. By now, people have started noticing, and whisper about the mysterious paper roses that have appeared on Clarke's desk for three days straight. Clarke had kept the other roses on a shelf in her room, and when she returned home, set the music sheet rose next to the pale pink and deep red ones.

The next paper rose is small and lilac, with a green stem attached to the bottom. People around the room whisper about the roses, and who they think is giving them to her. Clarke mostly ignores them, twirling the stem in her fingers. She can't quite wrap her head around the fact that she has an admirer; an admirer too shy to show themselves. In a way, it's sort of sweet.

Finally, on Friday, she finds another paper rose. Only this time, it's made out of a worksheet. Her heart skips a beat when she realizes that someone had to have written their name on the assignment. She quickly sets her books aside, carefully picking up the rose and turning it over in her hand. Her eyes scanned the petals and folds for a name, something, any sort of clue to who was putting these things on her desk. She flipped the rose over, and there it was, scrawled along the bottom in messy handwriting.

Bellamy Blake.

She reads the name, trying to process this new information. Bellamy Blake. Bellamy _Blake_? The seemingly unassuming boy who sat half-way across the room from her? She hurriedly looked up from the name, searching the room for him.

There he was, across the room, already looking up at her. He's wearing a red beanie and looking slightly stunned; she's pretty sure his facial expression mirrors her own. He blinks, before smiling weakly at her, as if embarrassed by the roses.

The only thing she can do is smile back.


	7. Abandoned Places

They'd been walking for nearly an hour, trying to find the place that Bellamy _swore_ wasn't too far away. He looked behind his shoulder, making sure Clarke was close behind. The longer they walked, the more apparent the worry that he'd lead her on a wild goose chase became. Though, when he saw the large rock that had only been a short walk from the place, he knew they were getting close.

"Almost there," he assured.

"You've been saying that for the past twenty minutes," Clarke pointed out.

"No, really, we're almost there," he said, swinging around the trunk of a tree to face her. "It should be just over that way."

"We've been walking for an hour, and you still haven't told me where we're going," she said, grinning at him.

"That's because, princess, it's supposed to be a surprise," he placed a hand on the small of her back as she passed, and then continued to walk beside her. "I really think you're gonna like this place."

They continued walking, past the big rock and around the nearly identical trees. It should be just around that corner. He picked up the pace slightly as they neared the place, but when he turned the corner, there was only more forest. The place wasn't there. He stopped in his tracks, and she came up behind him, glancing over his shoulder, searching for what she was supposed to see.

"Uh," he said, glancing over at her, then back at the forest. "This isn't it."

She was silent for a minute before saying, "We're lost, aren't we?"

"I wouldn't say 'no'," he answered. "But I _do_ recognize this place. We can't be too far away." He continued on, searching for any more familiar sights.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," she joked, smirking.

He stopped briefly to glare at her. "It's a real place," he insisted.

"I'm sure it is."

He rolled his eyes, smiling and shaking his head. She picked up speed before falling into a steady pace by his side. "You could just tell me where we're going," she suggested. "I might be able to help find it."

"Nice try, princess," he said, "but I'm not spoiling the surprise."

"Oh, come _on_ ," she said. "We walked for an hour and didn't even find the place, and you still won't tell me what it is?"

"There's still a chance we'll find it," he argued. "I just have to retrace my steps a little." He himself was beginning to doubt they would ever find it, but Bellamy being Bellamy, was not willing to give up so easily.

"It's getting dark," Clarke commented, looking at the sky. "We really should start heading back."

"We'll be fine," he said, pushing a long branch out of his path, careful to make sure it didn't whip back at Clarke.

"Bellamy," Clarke said, "I'm serious. We really should start heading back before—"

He pushed aside another branch, stepped out into the clearing, and there it was. Clarke followed a step later, cutting off her sentence as she saw the place. She was speechless.

The place was beautiful. Small, fluorescent flies hovered above a pond—fireflies. The only glowing insects she'd seen on the Ground were the butterflies. From the looks of it, the butterflies were there too—lazily flapping their wings as they rested on the trunks of trees. The area was densely surrounded by trees, effectively making it private and hard to find.

"How did you find this place?" she breathed.

"I tried chasing down a boar on a hunt once," he explained. "I tripped, face-planted, looked up, and here I was." He turned to her and grinned. "I thought you might like to see it."

A slow smile spread across her face, before she laughed in disbelief.

"Wanna go for a swim?" she turned to see a suggestive look in his eyes as he asked it. She huffed, playfully shoving him before agreeing.

"It's a good thing we're alone," she commented, before they both stripped off their clothes and ran into the pond.

* * *

 **A/N:** **This is the last I have written for this work. I stopped working on it in September of 2015 and have since lost the rest of the prompts. I took a LoK prompt list and modified it from there, so I'm not 100% sure I could ever get them back. But who knows, maybe I'll work on this again some day.**


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